Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5)

by Airicka Phoenix

Five year old feet ran towards the laughing voice. A tiny body draped in sunshine-yellow and white lace broke through planks of light pouring through gleaming windows, chubby arms outstretched.

  Her mother, smiling, eyes bright with laughter, swooped down and snatched her up. She was lifted, twirled. Their combined laughter rolled through the corridors.

  “I love you, Amalie.”

  “Don’t leave!” Her voice was older, not fit for the fragile body still suspended in her mother’s arms.

  “I will never leave you.” Truth shone in the pools of blue so like Amalie’s. “I love you so much. So much,” she said again, squeezing Amalie a little too hard.

  Amalie squeaked and the hold was instantly relaxed. She was set down on her feet.

  “I want to show you something.”

  There was no reservation. Amalie took the hand her mother offered and trustingly let herself be led away from the main part of the house. The servants respectfully inclined their heads, eyes downcast, but no one stopped them. The guards remained rigid in their position. No one even paused to consider anything was wrong. Not even Amalie. Not even when they reached the threshold of the cellar and her mother opened the door to the vast blackness below.

  “Is the surprise down there?” Amalie asked.

  “Yes.”

  One tiny hand curled around the banister and the other held firmly in her mother’s grasp, Amalie descended the steps.

  “Careful,” her mother said quietly from beside her. “We’re almost at the bottom.”

  Darkness painted over her vision, engulfing her with a blanket of ice. A shiver claimed her small body. Her mother’s hand tightened around hers in comfort.

  “This way.”

  She was turned right and propelled with great ease through the catacomb of old boxes, forgotten toys and other dust collectors. Things forgotten by time and people alike.

  “Daddy says we’re not allowed down here,” Amalie said, her voice no more than a whisper.

  “I know.” Her mother stopped. Amalie felt her stoop. Her mother’s warm breath caressed her cold cheeks. “Amalie.” Her mother’s hands were gentle touching her face, brushing back hairs. “My sweet little Amalie. I am so sorry.”

  Amalie fumbled reaching for the hand cradling the side of her face, her sense of direction not as fluid as her mother’s. “Mommy?”

  “Shh, it’s all right.” Cool lips touched her brow. “I’m here.”

  Without another word, her mother rose, took her hand once more and continued through the dank stench of rot, mold and sewage. Amalie stumbled along behind, no longer sure she wanted to venture into this strange place.

  “Right here, sweetheart.”

  Amalie was nudged into what felt like a wooden bench. Her mother’s hand slipped out of hers, leaving her alone in the empty silence.

  “Mommy…?” her voice croaked.

  “I’m here.” But her voice was far away.

  Then there was a flare of light that momentarily blinded her. She squinted through her lashes at the odd space.

  Wooden crates, barrels and broken pieces of furniture took up most of the cramped space. The single light bulb dangling from the rafters above swayed, throwing grotesque shadows across the walls. Her mother stood at the other end of the room, next to the door. She smiled at Amalie.

  “Don’t be scared,” she said. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I don’t like it down here,” Amalie said, her voice shaking with tears.

  The smile faded from her mother’s face. She crossed the room and knelt at Amalie’s feet. “Amalie.” She rested cool hands on Amalie’s knee. “Look at me.” She waited until she had Amalie’s attention before continuing. “I know you’re very young and this won’t make sense to you, but it’s important that you really listen. Can you do that for me?”

  Unsure, but determined, Amalie nodded.

  One hand lifted and touched the side of her face. “You’re such a good girl.” there were tears in her mother’s eyes. “It’ll be your downfall, my little angel. You are so much good, so eager to please. He’ll destroy you. I know he will.”

  Amalie had no idea what she was talking about, but she didn’t interrupt.

  “Amalie?” Her mother scooted closer, dropping her voice even more. “Do you remember when you saw Grandpa?”

  Amalie nodded. “Daddy says we can’t talk about that.”

  Her mother nodded. “Yes, he did, but he’s not here. I need you to tell me what grandpa said.”

  Amalie pressed her lips together.

  “Amalie, please. Daddy will never know.”

  She hesitated. Her gaze flickered to the doorway, relieved to find it empty of her father’s daunting frame. She looked back at her mother.

  “He said…” she trailed off.

  “Go ahead,” her mother prompted, soothingly rubbing Amalie’s arms. “When did you see your grandfather?”

  “In the library,” Amalie answered quietly. “He likes it in there, says it’s quiet. I sit with him sometimes and he reads to me.”

  She felt her mother shudder. “Amalie, baby, your grandfather…your grandfather, he’s…” She seemed incapable of speech for a moment. “Your grandfather, he’s…” Her hands were ice curling around Amalie’s fingers. “He’s dead, baby. Your grandfather is dead.”

  Amalie nodded. “I know. He says Daddy didn’t want him near me, said he wanted to keep me to himself. He says…”

  “What, Amalie? What did he say?” her mother prompted when Amalie fell quiet.

  “He says Daddy killed him.”

  Her mother sucked in a breath, held it for several heartbeats, released. “Amalie, what you have is a gift. You’re special. You see things other people can’t. Your father doesn’t believe in gifts. He’s very practical, so you can never tell him what you can do. Promise me. Promise me, Amalie, that you will never tell your father.”

  “But Daddy says you never keep things from—”

  “Promise me, Amalie!” Her tone was urgent, her eyes wide. Her fingers cut into Amalie’s arms, stopping blood flow, hurting. “Promise me!”

  “Ow, Mommy!”

  The fingers relaxed, but the fear in her mother’s eyes remained bright. “Amalie, listen to me very carefully…are you listening?”

  “Yes, Mommy!” Tears poured down her face, hot and unstoppable.

  “Do not ever tell your father about what you can do. You must never tell him. It’s so important that you understand. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t. She didn’t understand anything except the pure terror in her mother’s eyes, in the urgency in her voice. But she nodded. “I won’t tell Daddy.”

  The relief was palpable. Her mother exhaled, closing her eyes. She drew Amalie into her arms. Her fingers combed her hair. “I love you, Amalie. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”

  ***

  Amalie closed her eyes, willing the memory away. She wished with all her might that she’d listened. Had she kept her mouth shut, her life may have been different now.

  Outside the terrace doors, the heavens raged war with the ocean. The clash and rumble shook the extravagant structure perched precisely on the lip of the cliff overlooking the battlefield. Amalie heard the cacophony with gritty, sleep deprived eyes, her own emotions in turmoil. She tried to ignore all the possibilities racing through her mind of the things her father was going to do with her once he returned for her. She’d heard him the day before, ordering Tomas’ body away. She’d heard him talking to Isaiah and then leaving. He hadn’t returned, but it was only a matter of time and when he did, she wouldn’t survive it. He would blame her for what Tomas did. He would punish her for what she did. He would kill her this time. It was a cold, hard fact and she wondered how long she had before that happened and if she was ready to die.

  Yes! The voice in her head hissed, the desperation painful. She wanted to die. It was either that or live in isolation, in torture for the rest of her life, until either she broke or her
father became too old to carry on the madness. But then there’d be someone else. Maybe Isaiah. It was what her father was grooming him for, to take his place. No. She would rather die than be tortured under Isaiah’s hands.

  Part of her prodded that there was another option. A fairytale option. An impossible option. She could escape. She could run. But that part of her clearly hadn’t thought that plan out properly because where would she go? How would she make it past the gates? How would she make it down the corridor? She never would.

  But you could try! The voice insisted, urgent now, frantic. What’s the worst he could do to you that he hasn’t already done?

  The mere thought was such a temptation. She almost ached with a physical pain for the want. She closed her eyes and pressed her brow to the cool windowpane.

  She could. She could try. It might not work, but at least she wouldn’t go down without a fight or at least an attempt at freedom.

  The idea was so beautiful, so fictional, she was overwhelmed by the unexpected shot of adrenaline that pulsed through her, hot and unstoppable. Her breath caught and she had to close her eyes to stop the heady sensation that sucked all the air from her brain, leaving her faint.

  Leave. It was a possibility. An impossible one, but maybe! Maybe she could.

  Fear and excitement drummed through her like a second heartbeat and she almost gasped at how focused everything seemed to become. But the moment was shattered by the quiet click from behind her.

  Guilty as if caught, she whipped around, pressing her back into the chilly glass.

  Derek stepped into the room, clad in his uniform, face as somber as ever. His gray eyes swept the room once before settling on her and staying. He stared at her a moment too long, making her squirm and drop her gaze.

  “I apologize,” he murmured, his husky voice drawing her attention back to him. “But there’s someone here who wishes to see you.”

  That fleeting moment of excitement she’d experienced at the possibility of her escape shriveled up in the back of her throat and oozed into her churning belly. No one ever came to see her. Why would they? Was it a trap? Was it her father? No, of course not. Her father wouldn’t need an introduction. Why would anyone want to see her? Why would her father give permission? Was it Tomas?

  So many questions. So many dizzying and numbing questions. She wasn’t prepared for the figure that finally stepped past Derek’s daunting figure to stand before her.

  Relief struck her like a fist in the gut. She almost lost control of her knees as she slumped heavily on the doors to keep from striking the floor. But it didn’t last as she realized he had no reason to be there, no reason to want to talk to her, not unless he was there to tell her how disgusted with her he was. Maybe that’s why he’d come. Maybe he was there to tell her he was glad he’d left her.

  Maybe you need to stop guessing, the voice in her head said, annoyed.

  Uncertain, she ran her eyes over him, taking in the rumpled state of his clothes, the tussled mess of his hair, the dark shadows around his eyes and the downward tilt of his mouth. There was stubble along his jaw that intensified the fatigue on his face. His hands were balled at his sides, knuckles white against the gold of his skin. He looked so tired, so defeated, so angry.

  Amalie straightened, not allowing herself the luxury of looking weak or guilty when he said what he’d come to say. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin in what she hoped was a stance of strength, but her insides quivered. Her bones rattled. She felt physically ill.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered when it became apparent that he would stand there forever without uttering a word.

  Then, as if her words had the power to cripple, he crumpled. His knees struck the hardwood with a crack that made her wince and he slumped forward, resting his hands on his knees, his head hanging. Amalie started forward, her hands outstretched, concern racing through her, but she caught herself at the last second, not sure what to do. Not sure he wanted her to touch him.

  “Forgive me.” She thought she heard him murmur, but the words were so gruff, so faint she had to strain to hear them.

  “What?” She took another step closer, careful.

  With a sigh, he seemed to deflate even further, coming to a full kneeling position at her feet. “I didn’t know.” He rubbed a hand over his haggard face. “I swear I had no idea. I would never have left.”

  Unconsciously, she took a step back, frightened and uncertain of his words. Each one meant so much and she didn’t want them to.

  His head lifted at her gesture. The pain in his eyes struck her to the core.

  “You can’t possibly hate me nearly as much as I hate myself,” he said with a humorless smile.

  “You should go,” she whispered, needing him to leave before she gave into the spark of hope blossoming in her chest.

  He rose, but he didn’t leave. He stood watching her, his blue eyes pools of agony blistering against his face. “Please listen to me?”

  How could she deny him when he looked like a beaten dog ready to get another kick? How could she turn him away when he looked so broken? The angry part of her hissed at her weakness, calling her a fool for letting him close enough to destroy her again. But nothing in the world could make her stop loving him. No matter how hard she tried.

  Behind him, Derek remained in the doorway, watching the scene with a carefully blank expression. She wasn’t sure why he was still there. Maybe to prevent her from doing a repeat performance of the day before. Maybe because it was his job to watch her. Whatever it was, he was very still, like he’d suddenly turned into a statue.

  She turned her attention back to Isaiah, also watching her, his look pleading.

  “I think you said all there was to say that last time,” she murmured.

  Isaiah shook his head, gaze never leaving her face. “Nothing I said to you that day was mine.”

  “It looked like you,” she said.

  He took a cautious step forward. “You’ve known me my whole life. Have I ever, before that day, ever intentionally hurt you?”

  She hesitated before giving a shake of her head.

  “Because I would rather die than hurt you,” he said quietly. “I would kill before letting anyone hurt you. I want to kill that bastard for what he did to you, but it was my fault it happened.”

  Amalie frowned. “You didn’t—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “But I let it happen. I turned my back on you and I…” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “He got to you because I let him. Because I wasn’t here to watch over you. Because I thought that what I was doing was for your good.”

  Anger tickled the back of her throat. “You broke my heart because you thought being without you was good for me?”

  He sighed, scooping a hand back through his hair. “Yes.”

  “You’re so stupid!” she barked, taking a step back before she could hit him.

  “I know.”

  His admission only fueled her fury. She balled her fists at her sides, but kept them contained there. “Why would you do that? Why would you think I would be better off without you when you were the only reason I had to keep living?”

  He hung his head. “Because I thought I was making you worse. That by loving you, I was making you sicker.”

  “I never felt more alive than I did when I was with you!”

  He nodded slowly, still staring down at his feet. “At the time, I truly and honestly believed I was doing the right thing. I tried to break things between us cleanly, without hurting you, but you refused to let me go…”

  “Because I loved you!” she shouted. “Because I didn’t want to let you go! Because I didn’t want to lose you!” She hadn’t realized she was crying until her voice hitched and she felt the tears on her cheeks. She swiped at them impatiently. “I have never fought for anything in my life because I never had anything worth fighting for, but I was going to fight for you.”

  “Something I should have done, but was too stupid, too blind to d
o it,” he said miserably. He raised his head and peered into her face. “I won’t ask you to take me back because I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness, but I swear to you, Amalie, that I will never hurt you again, that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”

  Chapter 21

  Amalie

  She could have forgiven him. It would have been a simple thing to do when her heart had already decided it. But the words were thick paste at the back of her throat, clinging to the soft tissues of her esophagus like peanut butter. She tried to swallow, tried to spit them out, but they clung, denying her the simple offering.